The bustle of the cafe fades into the background as iTunes increases in volume. There are mere minutes before the responsibilities I only half want reclaim my wavering attentions.
"If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy..."
As her contemplative vocals continue, I remind myself with ever-increasing venom that I am royalty. The daughter of The King, and without reason to feel the way I do today, this week.
"Am I lost or just less found?"
And answering to myself, I am not sure.
Now and again like a landscape viewed through the fence posts from a speeding train, I catch glimpses of who I really am. Who He really is. But they are gone again, disappearing as the bustle and the noise and the sheer speed of living drowns out and changes the face of reality.
The posts blur together and become seamless and the "walls become the world all 'round," in bitter parody of Sendak and his book.
"Speak to me in the light of the dawn," breaks out in desperate triumph.
The feelings are as fleeting as the remaining seconds of this too-brief respite.
"Hope is coming for me."
And with that defiant prayer, I try to gather the shreds of what once was perspective and hold them up again to be rewoven.
